The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  He looks over at me and it’s clear he’s surprised to see me. He flashes me a brilliant smile and lifts his chin.

  I stand up and give him a small wave before turning to walk away. Then it hits me—why would he be happy to see me? I’m embarrassed as I look around, certain he was smiling at someone else. But then he runs up alongside me, guitar in hand.

  “Ivy,” he says. He points to the resort we’re standing in front of. “Are you staying here?”

  I stop walking and wiggle my toes in the sand as I talk with him. “No. I’m down the beach a ways.”

  “Wow. Small world.”

  I nod to his guitar. “I heard you playing. You’re very good. Do you play professionally?”

  “I almost did,” he says. “I even attended a music school for a few years before leaving to pursue my real dream.”

  “But you play so well. It’s hard to believe you wouldn’t want to do it as a career.”

  “I do love to play, but not as much as I love being a firefighter.”

  I cock my head to the side. “A firefighter in New York? You work for FDNY?”

  He nods. “I do. You say it like you know someone else who does.”

  “My cousin did, but that was a long time ago. He quit to sell cars. He said it was too stressful.”

  “It can be pretty intense at times, but it’s also very rewarding,” he says. “So now that you know what I do, what’s your profession, Ms. Greene?”

  “I work for my parents. They own a chain of flower shops in the city.”

  “That sounds nice,” he says, just as the girl selling flowers walks up to us. “And what timing.”

  “A flower for the lady?” the girl asks.

  “Of course,” Bass says, pulling out his wallet and handing the girl a few dollars.

  “Bass.” I touch his hand. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

  “I insist,” he says with a warm smile.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, bringing the flower to my nose.

  “Put it in your hair. Just over your ear,” the girl says. She looks between Bass and me. “A flower on the right means you are single. One on the left means you’re taken.”

  Of course I know this, being a florist, but I let her explain it anyway.

  “Thank you,” I say, putting the flower above my right ear.

  I can see out of the corner of my eye that Bass is happy I put it behind my right ear. And although I’m still unsure of his intentions, I realize he is a welcome distraction.

  The girl leaves just as the sun starts to get swallowed up by the sea. I’m mesmerized by the sight. I stand and watch the amazing beauty of it, happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I’m fulfilling a promise to do this very thing. Sad that the person I made the promise to is not here to witness it with me.

  I hear the guitar again. It’s soft and soothing and brilliant. Almost as if he has written a tune to go along with the setting sun.

  “What song was that?” I ask when he finishes, just as the sun falls below the horizon.

  He shrugs. “Something I made up just now when I was watching you watch the sunset.”

  I feel myself blush knowing I was the inspiration.

  “You’re very good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’d better get back.” I glance down at my bare feet. “It gets hard to navigate the beach after dark with all the lava rocks. It was nice to see you again, Bass.”

  “You too,” he says. Then he studies me. “Ivy, I meant what I said earlier today. I have extra tickets for a lot of things. I’m here for two weeks and have no one to hang out with. Everyone else here is part of a family or a couple. I think we might possibly be the only two single people on Kauai. And we’re about the same age. At least I think we are. I’m twenty-four.”

  “I’m twenty-four, too” I tell him.

  “See? There you have it. And you walking down my beach is like the universe telling us we should hang out.”

  “Your beach?” I raise a brow at him.

  “Okay, our beach,” he says.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I tell him.

  “Why? Are you here with someone? You said there isn’t a Mr. Greene. Is there a boyfriend? A fiancé?”

  “No.”

  “Girlfriend?” he asks with a playful smirk.

  I laugh. “No. No girlfriend or boyfriend.”

  “How long have you been on the island?” he asks.

  “A week.”

  “And when do you leave?”

  “On the twenty-ninth.”

  He looks surprised. “That’s in four weeks, Ivy. You came here for over a month? All by yourself? Damn.”

  “I needed some time away.”

  He nods. “Bad breakup? Divorce maybe?”

  I shake my head, averting my gaze.

  “Well, whatever it is, I think we ran into each other for a reason. I’m going tubing tomorrow. Do you remember the pilot today telling us about the old sugarcane plantations that used to be here? Well, you can go tubing down the old irrigation ditches. You tube through caves and stuff. It actually sounds pretty fun.”

  “Yeah, I know all about it,” I say, thinking back to last year when I learned all there was to learn about this island.

  “But you don’t want to do it?” he asks.

  I shrug. I don’t tell him it’s one of the things I’m supposed to do. Just like the helicopter tour.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun,” he says. “And educational.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t,” I say. “I should go.”

  I start to walk away, but he grabs my elbow and gently pulls me back toward him. He pulls me so close our chests almost touch. He puts his other hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes briefly in an attempt to shut down. To remind myself why I’m here. But I can’t ignore the feeling of his hands on me. It’s nice. It’s demanding without making me feel controlled. It’s confident without seeming arrogant. But most importantly, I realize that for a second, I could forget.

  He doesn’t let go as he stares into my eyes. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I know what’s going through my head. That he is the first man to touch me like this, to stare at me like this, since Eli. It’s been what, nine years since a man other than Eli has had his hands on me? It’s not that I haven’t wanted it. It was just too complicated to try and be with anyone. And then, well, I was just too … numb.

  Suddenly, a wave of grief overwhelms me, and I pull away.

  He looks sad. He turns and picks up his guitar. “I tell you what, Ivy Greene. I’m going to come down here at ten o’clock in the morning. I’ll wait right here by this rock until ten thirty. If you’re not here by then, I’ll go tubing without you. But I really hope you show up, because I have a feeling that behind those sad and mysterious eyes, there is a woman who needs to have an adventure.” He reaches his hand out and I shake it. “Maybe she’s even a woman I will write another song about. Either way, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  “You, too, Sebastian Briggs,” I say, reluctantly pulling my hand out of his.

  He laughs at me for using his full name. He smiles at me for remembering it.

  As I walk away, I can feel him watching me. I want so desperately to turn around and look. But I don’t. However, I do feel a smile creep up my face. And I realize it’s not even a sad smile. It’s a smile I haven’t felt in at least a year. And it’s damn welcome.

  When I get to the point and see Erma packing up her rope, the seals having gone for the day, I finally turn around and look behind me. Bass is sitting on his rock, playing his guitar. And part of me wonders if he’s writing a song about the girl he met today. The girl with the sad eyes.

  And I think, for just a second, what would be the harm of getting lost in a fantasy for a while? After all, maybe a fantasy is exactly what I need—one that can bring me moments of peace.

  Chapter Three

  Sebastian

  I sit on the large rock, feel
ing a bit battered and bruised after my second morning of surfing. It’s not that I haven’t surfed before, but the waves in Hawaii are far different from the waves in Jacksonville, Florida, where I grew up. But I’m beginning to get the hang of it again. Surfing is like riding a bike. There is a lot of muscle memory involved, and once your body figures out how to keep your balance, it becomes a lot easier. The hardest part most of the time is paddling out to the break point.

  I check my watch and then peer down the beach. It’s almost ten thirty. I decide to give her five more minutes just in case she’s one of those people who is always late.

  I rub my forehead. Why am I obsessing over this? I don’t need a relationship right now. Especially with someone who seems so, I don’t know, confused. But something about her is different. And I can’t deny the instant connection I felt with her.

  “Aloha, Mr. Briggs,” a resort worker says. “No guitar today?”

  I laugh and shake my head. I stayed out here for hours last night, playing guitar. Some of the workers heard me and came down to the beach after their shifts to listen. “Maybe later, Mr. …”

  “Tua,” he says. “Call me Tua. You play very well.”

  “Thank you. Do you play?” I ask.

  “I play the ukulele.”

  “Maybe we could make it a duet some night,” I say.

  He smiles. “I would like that.”

  “You could teach me some traditional Hawaiian songs.”

  “That I could. But now I must go back to work. And three is a crowd,” he says, nodding over my shoulder.

  I turn around to see Ivy standing behind me carrying a beach towel and a string bag. She holds up the bag. “I didn’t know what to wear, so I brought a change of clothes.”

  I smile big. Then I realize what she’s wearing, and I try not to outright ogle her. She’s got on a sheer cover-up that barely hides the bright-blue bikini she’s wearing underneath. And, Holy God, I know she’ll have to remove the cover-up for our tubing adventure, and I wonder if I will even notice anything else on the tour.

  I swallow and try to conjure up some words. “You were right to wear a bathing suit. You’re sure to get wet. Uh, I mean, I’ll get wet, too. Everyone on the tour will get wet.” Jesus Christ, why am I getting so damn tongue-tied?

  “I think we also need water shoes, but they’ll provide those for us.” I stand up and reach for her bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “I’m glad you came.”

  “I almost didn’t,” she admits.

  “Why not?”

  She shrugs, and I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want me to press her, so I don’t. She’s obviously here alone, in one of the most beautiful places on earth, for a reason. A reason she doesn’t want to share with me.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go tubing.”

  We make our way to the parking garage underneath the resort I’m staying in. Ivy laughs when we walk through it. “How does anyone ever find their car?”

  The spots are filled with dozens of Jeeps. When I find the right one, I point to the bright yellow window cling of a hula dancer on the rear window. “I may have tried to get in the wrong one myself yesterday, so I bought that at a souvenir shop.”

  She giggles, studying the silly sticker. “Good idea. Wish I’d thought of it. I’m always losing my car.”

  I open the door for her before getting in myself. “Do you go out a lot? Exploring the island or to restaurants? I could use some good recommendations for places to eat.”

  “I haven’t been out much,” she says, looking embarrassed. “I’ve been to the local market a few times. I have a full kitchen in my rental, so I’ve been cooking there.”

  “And the exploring?” I ask, putting on my sunglasses as I drive out of the parking garage.

  She shakes her head. “The helicopter thing was the first time I did any of that. I do walk the beach a lot, though.”

  “You’ve been here a week and that was the first time you’d seen any of the island outside of our little strip of Poipu Beach?”

  She nods, but again offers no explanation.

  I wonder what would keep her holed up in her room for a week in a place like this. She must be dealing with some deep shit. I happen to have a few friends who went through some pretty terrible things. Things that kept them from fully living their lives for a lot of years. I think maybe Ivy is one of those people. Stuck in a rut she can’t get out of. Maybe all she needs is a nudge. And I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to be that nudge. More and more, I feel like meeting Ivy comes with some greater purpose.

  My phone rings and I glance down and smile when I see who it is. “I hope you don’t mind if I take this call,” I say. “It’s my best friend.”

  “Go ahead,” Ivy says.

  I put the call on speaker. “Hey, Penny. How’s it going?”

  “It’s great to hear your voice, Bass. Have you found any hotties to surf with yet?”

  Ivy snickers and covers her mouth.

  “Aspen, I’m in my car and you’re on speaker. And please don’t make me sound like a player when I’ve got a woman sitting next to me.”

  Laughter dances through the phone. “Well, then you might want to warn me that I’m on speaker next time. Hello, woman sitting next to Bass, I’m Aspen Andrews.”

  “Uh, hello,” Ivy says awkwardly. “I’m Ivy Greene.”

  “Ivy and I met yesterday on a helicopter. She’s from New York City.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Aspen squeals.

  I can already hear in her voice that she’s thinking this will be the one.

  Aspen has been trying to set me up for months. Even though she lives in Kansas City now with her fiancé who plays professional baseball, she still picks out women for me by way of her friends back in New York.

  “I won’t keep you then,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you the good news.”

  “Good news?”

  “Sawyer and I picked a date.”

  “That’s great, Penny. When is it?”

  “January second. We wanted to be able to take a honeymoon before I had to be back for spring semester. And we’ve decided to get married back in New York City. It makes sense. It’s where most of our friends are. Except Denver, and he’s hoping to get an exception to leave Missouri. There’s no way I’m getting married without him, so I’m fully prepared to cancel if he can’t attend.”

  “I’ll mark it on my calendar so I’m sure not to be on shift.”

  “You better not be on shift,” she says. “You’re my best man.”

  I sneak a look at Ivy, who has no choice but to listen to our conversation but is trying not to be obvious about it.

  “You get to bring a plus-one, you know. I wonder who that will be.”

  I roll my eyes at her tenacity. “Goodbye, Penny. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye, Bass. Bye, Ivy.”

  The phone goes dead.

  “She seems nice,” Ivy says. “And very direct.”

  “You are correct on both counts. She’s the reason I’m in Hawaii by myself.”

  I glance at her to see the look of surprise on her face. “She’s the one who left you at the altar? How is she your best friend then?”

  My GPS tells me we’re at our destination and I turn into the parking lot.

  “She’s not the one who left me at the altar. But she’s the reason I got left there.” I shake my head. “It’s a long story, but right now, we’re going tubing.”

  We check in at the booth in the warehouse. We sign a waiver and then get issued water shoes, gloves, and helmets with a light on top.

  Ivy looks adorable in her helmet with her long hair cascading past her shoulders to just below her breasts. And those breasts, holy shit, now that she’s removed her beach cover-up, I can see her tanned skin that is a contrast to the slivers of creamy-white flesh at the edges of her bikini top. She must do a lot of walking on the beach in that bikini.

  I have to talk myself down before a full-on stiffy embarra
sses me in front of our entire group.

  We’re loaded into a large van and proceed to follow two other vehicles through back roads to our starting point where we’re given instructions by the guides who will go with us.

  When we head down to the water, Ivy pushes me in front of her. “You go first,” she says. “They said the water is cold.”

  I sit back into my tube, feeling the shock of the cool water, and then I watch Ivy do the same. As soon as her butt hits the water, goose bumps line her arms and her nipples pebble up. It’s hard to get myself to look away. And she doesn’t fail to notice my gawking. In fact, a hint of a smile crosses her face.

  I’ve just made it my mission to make this woman smile. Because as beautiful as she is without one, I’ll bet she could bring a man to his knees if she smiles at him.

  I’ll bet she could bring me to my knees. And it’s refreshing to think that. Because even though I’ve tried dating over the past nine months, I’ve not felt this way about anyone. Not one girl has made my heart race and my shorts get tight. Not since Aspen. And it took me a long time to accept that we would never be together. I’m just glad we didn’t let it ruin our friendship.

  With Ivy, everything is different. I can’t put my finger on it, but when I look into her eyes, I just know we were supposed to meet.

  I start to drift away from Ivy and she reaches out to grab my hand. She pulls herself back over to me, but I don’t release her. I realize we’re holding hands through our gloves—the thick ones that ensure we don’t cut ourselves on the sharp walls of the caves we’re about to go through—but for some strange reason, that doesn’t make it feel any less intimate. And the way she’s looking at me, I know she’s thinking the same thing.

  The guide releases the rope that was keeping us from going forward and we start to drift down the narrow waterway that is heavily lined with all kinds of foliage, branches, and trees. We come to the first cave and are instructed to turn on our headlamps. The force of the water behind us has us rushing through the cave, bouncing our tubes off the cave walls like balls in a pinball machine.